


Just a Friendship

by orphan_account



Series: The Phantom Thieves are a Punk Band Au [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira just keeps running away from his feelings, Alternate Universe - No Metaverse (Persona 5), Alternate Universe - No Personas (Persona Series), Alternate Universe - Punk Band, Anal Sex, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Hurt No Comfort, I'm bad at tagging im sorry, M/M, Pining, Ryuji has a tongue piercing because... reasons, Ryuji is a sad romantic fool, Smoking, Tattoos, They're All Adults Now, Topping from the Bottom, Unrequited Love, but also not?, it's complicated - Freeform, no one is happy, no one is straight, please save him, so nothing goes right basically, the story of my life honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23528965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “No--I mean…” His friend looked… frustrated, distraught, like he couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. And maybe that was Akira’s fault. “Why do we do this? Why can’t we just be…” 'More than friends' remained unsaid, yet Akira’s gaze hardened all the same.Why? Why, indeed. The answer was obvious, yet neither of them felt particularly inclined to repeat it. It started with Akechi and ended with Goro, and in the middle was one big fucking disaster.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Sakamoto Ryuji, Background Mishima Yuuki/Sakamoto Ryuji - Relationship, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Past Kurusu Akira/Akechi Goro, background Suzui Shiho/Takamaki Ann
Series: The Phantom Thieves are a Punk Band Au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693204
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	Just a Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Listen... I just got Royal and suddenly I have this idea for a punk band au. Yes, I plan on adding more even if no one asks. Yes, I've tried to find a place for nearly every major character in the game. Yes, I'll probably turn this into an entire fic with chapters at some point.
> 
> No, no one is happy.

The bedsprings creaked under Akira’s weight as he shifted, his motion sending the headboard thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm. From under him, the familiar blond sighed, brown eyes fluttering shut as teeth dug into his tongue. Akira couldn’t help but find a grin, his breaths coming out in short huffs as he rolled his hips atop the other man. His fingers dug into pale skin, the burn in his thighs merely an afterthought compared to the shots of ecstasy that ran up his spine with each motion of his hips. It was just enough to push a sigh from his throat, a breathy moan of a thing as he felt himself take that cock deeper and brush against his prostate.

Ryuji’s eyes were open within an instant, a lopsided grin pulling at his lips in his triumph. Akira playfully flicked him on the ear before beginning to speed up his motions in earnest. It dragged a startled moan from the other’ man’s mouth, hips bucking as a reply, before a laugh erupted from his chest. “Dick,” Ryuji grinned.

“Yes, I happen to like it quite nicely,” Akira replied between pants. His curly black hair was sticking to the back of his neck, his forehead, with sweat, his heart practically beating in his throat as it was, but none of it stopped the breathy chuckle that he managed to force out. Still, neither of them would be able to last long and they both knew it. Akira’s own desire twitched with each buck of Ryuji’s hips, jaw going slack as he forewent jokes and laughter to chase after that pleasure that was growing in the base of his spine. Taking a hold of himself, his eyes fell closed, teeth keeping in a groan as he clenched his jaw once more.

Akira finished before Ryuji did, but he wasn’t hearing any complaining as he collapsed atop the blond, sweaty chest to sweaty chest as he caught his breath. He stroked the other man to completion as best he could through the post-orgasmic haze, dirtying the sheets further with their collective spunk. Akira simply let the kisses come as Ryuji rolled onto him, lips lazy against his own, a tongue probing into his mouth as if to taste every last bit of him. Fingers grazed over his skin, rubbing into his tattooed hip with a pleasant sigh. Still, Akira just kept silent and let it happen.

It wasn’t that Akira didn’t like being kissed, far from it, it was just that it was too intimate for friendship, too close for comfort when he just wanted a warm body to waste time with. Ryuji was good at that; though his athlete days were long behind him, no one could deny he had the physique. And the energy. But the boy couldn’t get into his head that sometimes a friendship was just a friendship.

Nothing more.

Akira pushed him off just as he felt that piercing graze against his tongue. Oh, he had many ideas for where it could go, he couldn’t deny that, but if he let it go any further he might just have caved to the affections he couldn’t return. “That’s enough,” He murmured as he pulled himself away, rolling towards the bedside table to reach for his cigarettes. He didn’t look back at his friend, couldn’t  _ allow _ himself to look for fear that the look of his might crush his heart into bits.

He knew how the man felt about him, it had been clear for some years now that Sakamoto Ryuji was hopelessly in love with him, it was just that this particular brand of closeness was new. Maybe Akira was taking advantage of it. Fuck it, he didn’t care.

Only once he had a veil of smoke to hide behind did Akira turn back to his blond drummer boy, already pulling on his briefs with a sad little wince. Even from here, he could see the scarring that marred the man’s leg, how the pale line of raised tissue cut across his knee with little mercy for what that might mean. It tended to ache at the best of times, Akira knew that, no matter how much Ryuji tried to hide it. Even now, he was absently kneading at the flesh, his brows furrowed in what could be pain had Akira not already known it was frustration. As his gaze fell to the blond’s lips, a part of him wanted to drag him back and ravage that mouth of his.

But he couldn’t.  _ Of course _ , he couldn’t.

“What are we, man?” Ryuji finally asked after Akira was already halfway through his second cigarette. His lungs protested, but he didn’t care. Raising a brow as he stared at his friend, the man squinted through the smoke in silent questioning. Scrunching his face up, Ryuji was balling his fists into his hair as he muttered, “I mean, what is this? Why are we like this?”

Akira huffed out a lungful of smoke, halfway between a snicker and a growl. “Is that a serious question?”

“No--I mean…” His friend looked… frustrated, distraight, like he couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. And maybe that was Akira’s fault. “Why do we do this? Why can’t we just be…”  _ More than friends _ remained unsaid, yet Akira’s gaze hardened all the same.

Why? Why, indeed. The answer was obvious, yet neither of them felt particularly inclined to repeat it. It started with Akechi and ended with Goro, and in the middle was one big fucking disaster. Akira felt his eye twitch, and then his heart did a leap and landed in his stomach. Good. He hoped it dissolved in there. Forcing his eyes away, he couldn’t hide the scowl that pulled across his face.

“Because this,” Akira said after too long, his cigarette butt snubbed out on the bedside table. He was already pulling on his trousers, Pushing his glasses onto his nose with a hiss, “This is just fun.  _ Friends _ have  _ fun _ . If that hasn’t been made clear to you then maybe you didn’t listen well enough.”  _ No _ , Akira’s mind protested despite his words, because he could already see his friend shrinking back, could already see how he struggled between the rage and heartbreak. His fingers dug into the mottled scarring at his knee, the skin going white and then red as he let go. Ryuji made a move to stand, but stumbled in his rush. The pain was clearly written on his face as he sagged against the wall, and so Akira dropped the act to go and help him.

Yet Ryuji shrugged him off with a scowl.

“Oh, fuck you,” He hissed, straightening up. His tone, as deceitful as it was, didn’t hide the way his heart was breaking in a million different ways. And even Akira was taken aback by the dull glaze in his eyes. “I’m not a kid.” Sometimes, Akira wasn’t so sure.

With a sigh, he found his eyes rolling of their own accord, “Fine then,” Akira muttered, “Get some sleep, we have a gig tomorrow night. I…” A pause as he grimaced out a smile, “Need some air.”

\---

Akira couldn’t breathe as he belted out the words with no feeling, fingers aching like hell as he held each chord for far too long. Yet still his mind burned, his ears ringing amidst the blaring of the speakers, the clashing of their instruments atop the stage. His body ached from the night prior, his chest most of all, but he ignored it. He had to.

Right at the front of their gathered audience, Akira could see Ann’s girlfriend watching on with pride in her eye. Under her arms were a pair of crutches, though she still stood regardless of the scolding she’d be getting once Ann took her home. Even two years on sometimes she needed the aid to lean against--Suzui-san never did quite recover from her jump.

But it was the mental scars that hurt the most; Akira knew that better than anyone. They were the wounds that felt the most raw, the ones that hurt even when they least expected it. Gritting his teeth, he just got on with the song.

By the time they were done, he was sweaty and sore, a feeling reminiscent of countless other nights he’d spend with his drummer at the back. Yet unlike such times, there felt a whole in his heart as he cast a stare through the bar. At the back, he swore he saw a familiar head of shaggy brown hair. Fuck, he needed a smoke.

He could scarcely even hear the upbeat voice of the pretty model taking up the mic beside him, “Thank you very much! We are The Phantom Thieves and that was  _ King of Lust _ !” Akira didn’t realise it was over until he’d found himself standing in the cool night air, worrying the leather of his bracelet between his teeth. Ann was already tending to her girlfriend, her usually perfect hair in a mess, while Yusuke had gotten his sketchbook out as quickly as he’d been able. Makoto was packing everything away and, beside her, Ryuji was pointedly ignoring him as he chatted to a familiar-looking guy with dark hair and a starstruck look in his eye.

Not for the first time, Kurusu Akira felt alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Atlus *slides $20 across the table* Ryuji romance when


End file.
